


2012

by Keeper of Tales (CodenameLoki)



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: M/M, TW: CPR, TW: Cardiac Arrest, Tumblr Ask Box Fic, Tumblr Prompt, as in something very similar actually happened to me, this fic is intensely personal, tw: panic attack
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 15:26:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2196945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CodenameLoki/pseuds/Keeper%20of%20Tales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tumblr anon gave me the prompt CPR.</p><p>Dean wakes up and realizes something is wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	2012

**Author's Note:**

> Always open for Ambrollins prompts! Anything goes, G - NC-17, any genre, any fetish. 
> 
> You can comment here or ask over here: http://codenameloki.tumblr.com/
> 
> ~*~
> 
> OKAY SO, this prompt, I almost refused it, because even though I said anything, CPR is actually a massive PTSD trigger for me- not the anon’s fault, and writing this was actually extremely cathartic.
> 
> This is extremely stream of consciousness and that’s very deliberate, because it is almost word for word what I went through in 2012 when my grandmother had a fatal heart attack. Basically everything Dean thinks/does/says in this is what I thought/did/said.
> 
> So yeah, this fic is super personal, and I want to thank the anon who prompted it, because I’ve never actually written out what happened. Fanfic therapy, who knew?

Dean’s eyes blink open, squinting in the dim light of the television that’s still playing, and he knows that something is wrong. Seth always turns the TV off. He tenses- Seth is making low, ragged gasping noises, and Dean lurches upright at the choking sounds next to him, sheets twisting around his waist, as Seth gasps uselessly, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling. “Seth? _Seth?!_ ” 

_Oh fuck, he’s not breathing._

Dean slides bonelessly off the bed and stands there, one knuckle crammed into his mouth, teeth sinking in until blood runs down his wrist, his other hand patting frantically at Seth’s face. Oh god oh god oh god, Seth was having a seizure or a heart attack or a stroke or something and Dean, fucking useless motherfucker _Dean_ had no goddamn idea what to do. CPR? Mouth to mouth? What if he fucked up, he always fucks up and this could be Seth’s life. Seth. His Seth. _His life_. 

Tearing his eyes away from his partner, he slapped frantically at the nightstand, looking for his phone, Seth’s phone, someone’s phone, to call 911. “Come on, come on, yes, yes, hi, my- my friend, he’s not breathing, well, he’s, he’s gasping, he can’t get any fucking air, he can’t fucking _breathe_ , God, help me, I don’t know what to _do_.”

The operator’s voice, female, cool, so fucking calm, telling him she’s dispatched an ambulance and now he needs to get Seth onto a hard surface to do chest compressions until they arrive, and how can she be so calm when Seth is so pale and clammy, those regular gasping attempts at air, his chest so terrifyingly still. Dean feels panic rising, his chest getting tight, and the air is so thin and tears are running down his face as he’s screaming into the phone,“I can’t, _I can’t_. I don’t _know, I can’t_ -”

“You can,” she cuts in. “You need to do this. I’ll walk you through it.” And Dean is manhandling Seth off the bed, dead weight, and he fucking _drops him_ \- Ambrose you fucking scumlord- onto the hideous shag carpet they’d always laughed about and the operator is telling him where to put his hands and to keep his arms straight and he’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to be straddling Seth with his knees on either side of his head but there’s no room to kneel beside him and he _has_ to do this even though he can’t see and his ears are ringing and yes, he’s doing it, the 911 lady- what is her name?- is telling him to push down hard, don’t worry about hurting him and the blood is pounding in his temples and tears are dripping onto Seth’s belly and something inside Seth is _crunching_ and Dean feels like throwing up but he can’t stop even though his arms are starting to burn from the frantic, up and down motions.

And then there’s banging on the door, jarring him out of his daze and he remembers that he’s still on the phone and he tells- screams at- the operator that the EMTs are here and he can’t leave Seth, he can’t, he’s still so pale, still trying to jerk in air and she soothes him, yes, he can leave, it’s all right, they’ll help Seth and he hangs up and goes to let them in.

Sitting in the hallway of their apartment building- he can’t go back into the bedroom, he can’t look at Seth like that, can’t watch them doing whatever it is they need to do to save him god damn it, and he’s scaring the neighbours with his whooping breaths and harsh sobs, and he’s calling Roman to tell him and then the paramedics are wheeling Seth out on a stretcher, and he thinks- bizarrely- of Owen Hart as he staggers to his feet and follows them, screaming that he’s coming too, that he can’t leave Seth alone, and they’re in the ambulance, they’re pulling away from the building as the EMTs continue to ventilate Seth and then finally, finally, Dean can see Seth’s chest rising and falling and he’s breathing again by the time they pull up to the ER.


End file.
